


The roses are pretty,

by chemical_apples



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Angst, Hanahaki Disease, Hanahaki!Keith, Keith (Voltron) Angst, Keith (Voltron) is Bad at Feelings, Keith (Voltron) is a Mess, Lance (Voltron) Angst, Lance (Voltron) is Bad at Feelings, M/M, Mild Gore, Post Season 8, There is no fluff, but there's blood and stuff, hanahaki is pretty brutal tbh, if you want fluff dont read this, its not bad enough for warnings, klangst
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-02
Updated: 2019-01-02
Packaged: 2019-10-02 13:44:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 557
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17265254
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chemical_apples/pseuds/chemical_apples
Summary: but the thorns tear up his throat.// It's beenyears, Lance. Why do you still hold her so dearly? //





	The roses are pretty,

**Author's Note:**

> It's short but I'll be posting the second half when I decide whether I want a happy or sad ending. This is a vent so I don't think I'm in a place to be writing any happy endings right now!
> 
> Enjoy this shitshow of angst.

 

People love. _That's fine._

  
People mourn. _That's normal._

  
But years down the line, holding that same love so close to your heart will slowly blind you, consume you.

 

It had been years since Lance had lost his love, but not a single day had passed where he attempted to move on. Lance, who used to flirt with every creature, human or alien, hadn't so much as glanced at someone else with attraction in his eyes. Instead, his eyes were empty.

  
Even as Keith looked at Lance with just a glimmer of hope, he was met with nothing but those barren eyes. Was it that look that conjured up the first few petals in Keith's lungs? It's not like he had ever received anything akin to 'love' from Lance beforehand. There was companionship, sure, but nothing more. Maybe it was the fact that everyone except him had settled into more simplistic lives after the war was over. And Keith was left to clear up the aftermath. Maybe that was what he craved, a simplistic life with the boy who has always been there, somewhere in his peripheral vision. And somehow this longing for a simplistic life has turned into something far, _far_ more complicated than before.

 

  
____________________________________________________________

 

 

 _Roses_. It had to be roses. It couldn't be something soft and delicate, _no._

  
The flowers were beautiful, despite the deep red stains speckled across them. But as petals blossomed from his lips, the stem of thorns would soon follow suit. Keith could feel his throat tearing, his tongue sliced and punctured. The petals sprinkled like confetti on the floor, blood like strawberry syrup. The pretty picture by his feet was soon tainted as chunks of stem and thorns fell, turning it into nothing more than a heap of blood and roses. _A beautiful tragedy_ , the disease was known as. Would you make a bouquet from this mess on the floor? Hand it to a lover with a warm smile? _No._

  
There was no beauty in this shameful, foolish love. It was unrequited, for Lance was not in love with Keith.

 

  
_____________________________________________________________

 

  
He could lie. He could find a reason not to go. The annual meeting was coming up and the disease was getting worse as days went by. He had managed to avoid the rest of the paladins, only seeing them on occasion for a short time, but at this yearly ceremony he was expected to spend the whole day and night in their company, in _his_ company. How hard was it to just tell them he had important work to do with the Blade of Marmora? Keith shook his head at himself. No, he had to be there. With his seemingly fast approaching fate, it would be his last time attending, after all. Keith inhaled heavily, breaching the low capacity of his lungs and doubling over in fits of coughs. He caught the few flowers that fell from his lips, but they were dropped to the ground as Keith felt the familiar scratching at his throat. The agony was intense and tears pricked his eyes. He let his body drop slowly to the floor, breath shallow. Knees to his chest and arms clasped around his body, Keith allowed himself to just cry. The blood was still dripping down his throat. The cries were loud and raw. Keith was dying.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> I am always there for some good old Hanahaki. Bring on the angst.
> 
> Also I wrote and proofread this in one sitting so let me know if I've made any errors.


End file.
